


IOU

by petvampire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porsche!Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petvampire/pseuds/petvampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac accidentally scratches Jackson's car - which means he owes him, big time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	IOU

It starts out with an accident; a fight, one of many they’ve ended up caught in over the last year. Not with each other – those don’t generally end up with them growing teeth and claws, like this one has. There seems to be a freaking homing device for weird arcane shit to come to Beacon Hills, though, and inevitably, the pack always ends up having to fight back, to protect their own, drive something out of their territory, blah-de-blah. This was another one of those fights, some kind of weird fey creatures that have a penchant for snatching their classmates. _Had_ , rather, because the one they were dealing with is now in pieces on the ground.

It’s not the only casualty, though. The thing tracked them into the parking lot, just as they were trying to make a break for it, and in the process of fighting it off, Jackson’s Porsche has acquired a set of long claw marks across the hood.

Like Isaac meant for that to happen. He knows how _into_ his car the other is; it was an accident, him missing the creature attacking him and ripping into the side of the Porsche instead. That doesn’t mean Jackson is any _less_ pissed when he notices it, even through the spray of faerie blood that’s currently coating most of the car.

His eyes are already wolf-blue, but they flash when he turns on Isaac, a low growl in the back of his throat. “ _Seriously_? You’re so bad in a fight you mistook my _car_ for that thing?” His words are sharp; they usually are, but they’ve managed to be at least a little less insulting in the past months, since they’ve managed to turn enmity into something a little more entertaining for the both of them. Now Jackson seems like he’s slipping back into bad habits, though. Isaac raises his hands in a ‘hey-I’m-innocent’ sort of gesture, stepping away. “Hey, it was an accident! I was a little distracted by the faerie trying to kill us.”

Jackson can’t really argue with that, but he still shoots Isaac a hard glare. “You owe me _big time_.”

~

The next night, when he’s being pushed up against the cool metal of the car’s hood, he is somewhat surprised, because this isn’t exactly what he was thinking of when Jackson said he owed him. Isaac’s not complaining, though. Hell, he is _so_ far from complaining, far more interested in the hot familiar press of Jackson’s mouth against his own, the insistent way the other’s hands are tugging at his clothes, slipping up under the layers of shirt and sweatshirt to drag the blunt edge of nails along the skin of his chest and stomach. Isaac groans against his lips, slides hands down into the blonde’s back pockets, tugging him up hard against him.

This, they’re used to. It’s a lot easier to blow off some steam, work out aggression, like _this_ than it is to be at each other’s throats like they used to. Besides, Isaac’s always thought Jackson was more than a little attractive; one of the reasons he didn’t protest the whole club plan, was willing to get that close. He didn’t mind in the least then, and he doesn’t mind now.

He likes the way the other pushes him, the way he knows just how to get Isaac shivering and moaning, how to bend him to his will. Jackson’s got _alpha_ written all over him, Isaac can smell it on him, and he’s more than willing to accept that. The other does it so well.

That doesn’t mean he won’t growl a challenge when the other pushes him back against the metal, won’t make it a bit of a struggle. It adds spice between the two of them, though god only knows they don’t need more. This time, it ends up like it usually does, Jackson pinning Isaac face-down against the Porsche’s hood (okay, maybe that bit is new), pressed up firmly against his back, biting a fresh mark on the side of his neck. Isaac groans under him, pushing back against the feel of Jackson hard against him, the way their bodies fit together. It doesn’t take much to get them to this point, honestly; they are both of them hot-blooded, and when they’re together, it’s just intensified.

It takes little more than a few seconds for both of them to scramble out of their shirts, jeans pooled on the garage floor. Isaac is splayed out across the hood of the car, legs kicked out wide like he’s about to be searched, moaning obscenely while Jackson traces a hand down his spine, fingers slick with lube (because they’ve both learned to keep it close at hand, given how often them being in the same place ends up like this), tracing delicately around his entrance. He doesn’t tease for long, though, because neither of them has the patience; just slides a finger into him, then two, prepping him quick and rough the way they both like it.

And then Isaac is being pinned between the cold metal and the warmth of Jackson’s body as the other presses into him, arching up under him in automatic response. He does his damnedest not to dig claws into the hood of the Porsche, not to cause more damage, but it’s a battle. That’s probably why the other pins his hands, holding him down while he thrusts into him with a slow, rolling motion of his hips.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up speed, force, until Isaac is panting and moaning underneath him in earnest. Jackson knows how to send him over the edge; he slams into the other wolf, free hand raking nails down his side, pressing with bruising force into his hip. The brunette bucks, grinding himself between Jackson and the car (it’s a little uncomfortable, but hell, he needs the friction), pushing back into every thrust as best he can manage. Then the other is groaning, too, Isaac can feel the sounds vibrating through him, can smell the sharp heated need on him. Neither of them is going to be able to take this for too much longer, not at this rate.

It’s Jackson who comes first, leaving the brunette with the breath of a whimper on his lips before the other pulls him back off the car enough to reach between them, wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking him swiftly, roughly, until Isaac arches with a sharp hiss of pleasure, spilling himself over Jackson’s hand and the hood of the Porsche.

Hell, he’s probably going to owe him for that, too, but he can’t possibly care.

They slump against each other, Isaac leaning his head back against Jackson’s shoulder, the other turning his head to brush open-mouthed kisses that are almost gentle along the side of his jaw. It doesn’t last long; soft moments like this never do, though Isaac is pretty sure he doesn’t mind. Lost boys needing comfort they might be, but they’d choke on too much sweetness, find it bitter to the taste.

So the other nudges at him with a hip, pushing him away, and Isaac goes with a throaty bark of a chuckle, bending to scoop his jeans up again. He pulls them on quickly, sparing a backwards glance before Jackson does the same, then takes a moment to survey the scene. The Porsche looks a bit worse for the wear, and Isaac isn’t going to be able to look at the damn car without remembering this, but he’s pretty sure that’s not a bad thing.

He pulls his shirt on over his head, then flashes a crooked grin. “So, that make up for your car?”

Jackson shoots him a _look,_ one that is at once exasperated and still with the lingering languid pleasure of _damn good sex_. “Hell no. You still owe me one, Lahey. _More_ than one, really.”

So Isaac just laughs, and leans to trace a messy ‘IOU’ in the come splattering the car’s hood, an action that makes Jackson growl and nip playfully at the back of his neck, almost tackling him back against the Porsche and doing more damage to the car.

Isaac will pay for it, eventually – like _actually_ pay, put the money down to get the scratches repaired, even though he knows he doesn’t have to. Jackson wouldn’t really hold it against him; but it’s worth it to him, just to see the way the other grins, blue eyes softening a little.

The brunette is pretty sure he would kill to have some of that near-tender regard turned on him, though he won’t say it. Still, for the moment, he supposes he’s okay competing with a car.


End file.
